After spending the day in the ER with my mom, we were sent home — even though she was still fragile. I stayed up all night watching her breathe, afraid she wouldn’t wake up. This is what happens when caregivers are left to manage responsibilities we’re not trained or qualified to handle.

There’s a new HBO show called The Pitt . It’s a trauma-room drama that takes place over one shift in the ER, and it’s one of the most...

Caregiving is often described as an act of love, a responsibility that comes with deep emotional rewards. But for many caregivers, particularly those providing care for an aging parent, it becomes something else entirely. It becomes a constant state of alertness, a life lived in anticipation of the next call, the next crisis, the next moment when everything suddenly shifts and requires their full attention.

Caring for an aging parent—particularly one who was once neglectful, abusive, or emotionally unpredictable—can awaken old survival instincts.

No one wants to feel like a burden. No one wants to feel incapable, infantilized, or like the sum of their life has been reduced to a checklist of medications and doctor’s appointments. And yet, so much of elder care—so much of the way we are conditioned to look after them—is rooted in control rather than empowerment.

Let’s talk about the guilt. That deep, nagging feeling that creeps in the moment you even think about asking for help. The voice that whispers, You should be able to handle this. The one that tells you good caregivers don’t need breaks, that asking for help means you’re failing somehow. That voice? It’s lying to you.

My world has become so small since I became my mother’s caregiver. I didn’t notice it at first—it happened gradually, the way water slowly erodes stone.

Looking after my mom takes a toll on me every single day—on my time, my energy, my emotions, my sanity. Some of it is obvious.

For the past two years, I have found myself in a role I never expected—sole caregiver to my mother. She is 81. For most of her life, she...